


Friends are People Who Don't Try to Eat You

by phantisma



Series: Running to Stay Still [1]
Category: SGA/Angel
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-21
Updated: 2009-12-21
Packaged: 2017-12-04 10:48:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/709915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantisma/pseuds/phantisma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post Angel, mid season 4ish of SGA.  Ronon means to figure out the mystery that is Lindsey.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Friends are People Who Don't Try to Eat You

"You are a tease." Ronon says, lifting his drink in a sloppy salute.

"You're the one in leather pants." Lindsey counters, pushing back from the table.

It's late and they're alone in the tavern with enough snow falling outside that they can be fairly sure that no one else is going to wander in. Lindsey had given up the pretense of keeping bar when the last drunk soul had wandered out into the snow to go home.

Ronon figured Teyla was bunked down for the night in their rented room and wouldn't miss him and they weren't expected back on Atlantis for at least another day, so he was indulging his curiosity. 

He'd been coming here to this small town for years, since the early days of his running, and the people had always been kind. He'd made a few friends over the years and knew nearly everyone in town…except for this guy who had shown up out of no where a year or so before…alone, covered in odd tattoos and looking like he'd been through hell.

In that year, Ronon had seen him a handful of times, never getting a lot more than his name. He'd taken a job with the owner of the tavern, then took over the tavern when that owner had died.

"Not that kind of tease." Ronon says, leaning forward, though now that Lindsey's mentioned it…he was that kind of tease too. "You say things like that 'don't ask me why I know that' and expect me to leave it."

Lindsey waves his hand. "I don't want to bore you."

Ronon narrows his eyes and frowns a little. He wants to know where the guy comes from and why he seems to be hiding, and who he's hiding from…and really…that is usually Sheppard's role, but damn it he's curious now. "You know what we need?" Ronon asks with a grin. "We need more of that rot gut you insist is whiskey."

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you were trying to get me drunk." Lindsey says as he sits with the bottle, pouring shots for them both.

"Nothing wrong with getting a little drunk with friends." Ronon responds, tipping back his shot and watching Lindsey do the same.

"That what we are, big guy? Friends?"

"Well, you ain't tried to kill me, cut me open, experiment on me, throw me in prison or tried to eat me. I figure that's a good start."

"Friends are people who don't try to eat you." Lindsey says with a mean grin. "Licking and sucking are okay though."

Ronon lifts an eyebrow at that. "You must have a different definition for friend than I do."

Lindsey nods and toys with his shot glass. "Maybe….maybe not." His grin fades and he glances up at Ronon. "At least you haven't tried to cut off my body parts, drink my blood or sent a green singing demon to kill me after I tried to help stop the apocalypse."

"I'm guessing someone has?" He wants to say something about the green singing demon, but Lindsey seems serious, so he doesn't.

Lindsey glances his way, then pours more whiskey. "One someone. The same damn someone. Every fucking time." He throws back the shot.

Ronon lifts his. "I think you need new friends."

"Never said he was a friend." Lindsey says darkly, getting up to stalk away toward the fire. He rubs one hand over the other, his eyes dark and turned away.

Ronon tosses back his shot and stands, following him. "I could be." Lindsey stands and turns to look at him. "Your friend, I mean." Ronon says, crowding him toward the wall.

Lindsey looks up at him, blue eyes smoky in the firelight. "Not sure I'm looking for one." Lindsey says, his voice suddenly filled with gravel. His body is tense, and he swallows hard before blinking and looking away.

"You look like you need one." Ronon answers, his hand lifting to tug aside the collar of his shirt. "I know what these are." He doesn't know the symbols exactly, but he knows protective marks when he sees them. 

Lindsey bats his hand away and ducks around him. "Then you'll know enough to leave it alone."

He grabs the bottle of whiskey, not bothering to stop and pour it, just lifting the bottle to his lips and taking long swallows of it. He wipes his lips on his sleeve.

"All right." Ronon agrees, coming back to the table. "I'll leave it alone. But you should know that if you need--"

"Stop." Lindsey held up his hand and shook his head. "Don't tell me how those Atlantis people helped you. This ain't the Wraith. Hell, this makes the Wraith look like kindergarten bullies taking over the preschool sandbox."

Ronon snorts and sits back down. "I don't know what that means, but I'll take your word for it."

"My demons would give the Wraith nightmares." Lindsey says, taking another hit off the bottle. "But…they're a long way from here. And I ain't going back. So lets just you and me pretend they don't exist for a while and drink."

Ronon isn't going to argue that, he just takes the bottle when Lindsey offers and tilts it back, pouring the dark liquid down his throat. It's maybe an hour later, the bottle nearly empty when Lindsey stands on unsteady legs and nearly lands in Ronon's lap.

"The fucker thinks I'm dead." Lindsey says, his words slurring together.

"Who?" Ronon asks, reaching out to steady him. 

"Angel." Lindsey breathes the name, looking over his shoulder like he thinks the name will conjure the beast. "But he shouldn't have sent the green softie to take me out…had to crawl through five hell dimensions to find this place…lost the green guy after two."

Ronon's hand is on his hip now, keeping him from falling into the table or into him. "Got burned." He lifts his shirt to show the scars of a pretty nasty burn on his side. "Cut." He tugs on his pants to show a scar on his hip. "Chased and shot at, poked at…this bastard slimy Gothqick tried to keep me as his pet."

Ronon has no idea what a Gothqick is or why it would want a pet like Lindsey, but he's pretty sure he doesn't care all that much because Lindsey is leaning into his space now, licking his lips, his eyes on Ronon's mouth. "Not a pet."

He shakes his head, brushing his lips over Ronon's lips. Ronon swallows and puts his other hand on Lindsey's other hip, warm flesh sliding under his palm. "Lindsey."

His eyes focus on Ronon's slowly, the alcohol clearly fuzzing his ability to process. Lindsey's hand is on Ronon's shoulder. "Drunk."

Ronon laughs. "Yeah, I'll say."

"Shit." He tries to stand upright, but he stumbles. "Really drunk."

"No kidding." Ronon tries to help but instead he ends up with Lindsey straddling his leg, sliding closer as his hand moves to Ronon's neck. "Maybe we should call it a night."

Lindsey nods, his eyes closed and he leans in until his head is on Ronon's shoulder. "Not my fault…tried to help." Lindsey mumbles into his shoulder. 

"I bet you did. Lets get you up to bed, okay?"

Lindsey doesn't really respond, even when Ronon moves to stand, so he holds him steady until he can get upright enough to lift him. Lindsey groans a little as Ronon sets him on his shoulder and heads for the stairs. He pushes open the bedroom door and stumbles in, dropping Lindsey onto the bed. His eyes open, bloodshot and brightly blue in the low light of the room. "Ronononon…" Lindsey's hand grabbed him before he could pull away, almost knocking him off balance. "You good man."

Ronon snorts and nods, even as he pulls away and turns to pull Lindsey's shoes off. "Yeah, right." He pulls a blanket up over him. "I'm a good man."

"Hey." Lindsey's hand catches his, tugs and Ronon wants what he thinks is being offered, but not like this. "Friend."

"Yeah, I'm your friend. Sleep it off, Lindsey." Ronon pulls free and heads for the door. He isn't sure how much of Lindsey's story came from the whiskey and how much is real, but he figures the guy is entitled to his secrets and a real friend leaves them be.


End file.
